


Queen of Sauce

by WAOW



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Awkward Boners, F/M, Scent Kink, Teratophilia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:20:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29216346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WAOW/pseuds/WAOW
Summary: Turns out while the Queen of Sauce was boiling potatoes Krobus was boiling inside from arousal.(The Sauce is jizz)
Relationships: Krobus/Female Player (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 42





	Queen of Sauce

It’s agonizing, how close she is to him. How she leans so nonchalantly against him on the couch, her arm wrapped around his shoulders. 

Drenched utterly in the day’s sweat.

It glistens on her cheek, rivulets gathered in the hollow of her sun-richened neck. It smells so strongly - so utterly of her - that it pains him to even breathe in, at this proximity; each ragged inhalation sending jolts of arousal straight down into the pit of his groin, sending quivers through his limbs. That leathery, earthen smell so familiar to him at this point, worn into the grooves of her body as she knelt among the fields every day - her hands strong but gentle as they tended to the vegetation, smelling so richly of the life she nurtured. Dirt brushed off tubers; the fragrance of bent petals; the sweetness of bruised fruit - the cacophonous symphony of the farm's smells blended into harmony upon by the clean, strong salt of her sweat. A portrait of her being, painted with aromas - that kind, yet powerful farmer, who could rip swollen pumpkins from the ground with one fist, yet who had held his paw so tenderly when they had first shook hands. The scent no doubt ran down the muscles of her back; the curve of her hips; her skin must be entirely inundated with it beneath those overalls. His barely functioning mind doesn’t know if he should drink deeply, take in as much of the farmer’s scent as he can, completely drown himself drunk on it - or breathe in as rapidly as possible, like a man thirsting in the desert, for fear that the farmer might suddenly leave for some chore or another. 

So far she hasn’t noticed it, he thinks - her attention entirely occupied by the cooking show on tv - which for whatever reason she’d invited him to watch with her today, right after she’d come in from work; too fast for him to disappear whenever she’d usually come in at this time, which he did for fear of him losing his senses at how fresh her scent would be. It already almost drove him mad, how this house smelled so entirely like her - when he’d first moved in he’d anticipated it but not to this level. The couches, the beds, the chairs all were steeped with her smell - he should have known a farmer to sweat more than usual, what was he thinking - that he’d fucked himself near to death against all the surfaces of the place, blasting rope after rope of his seed into her favorite chair, his face buried into her pillow, imagining those gentle fingers of the farmer's exploring the insides of his slit - what a narrow escape it was when she’d believed him when he claimed to be cleaning the place, when she’d caught him trying to desperately wipe it away before she came back. He thought he’d grown used to it, living perpetually in the aphrodisiac aroma of her scent. 

But now she was sitting so close to him, drenched utterly in the day’s sweat, taunting him like another hit would an addict. He prays she does not notice how he sits so forward on the couch, legs pressed together, arms locked in place; how his body is hunched over almost as if in pain, pressing into his arms for the faintest relief, his breath hitching with each rise-and-fall. The lilting voice of the show’s host flows past his ears like static. Perhaps she would not notice the richly sweet yet bitter scent of his arousal, oozing so copiously thick from between his fingers even as he desperately tries to hold it in; his paws almost jammed into his slit to keep the head of his cock from sliding out. He’d tried to press the lips of it together, to no avail; eventually the pressure had mounted to an unbearable point, pre trickling forth, heralding the eventual poking of his cockhead through the dam. It rubs against his palm, hot and slick and angry; he presses the see-saw curve of his lips tight to prevent a moan from escaping. 

If she looked down now there would be no hiding it. His beady white eyes screwed in agony, his head-tendril tied in a knot. In the pit of his belly, within the oily-translucent shine of his flesh shimmering as he quivers; a dark and swelling color, growing and gaining richness like paint on a canvas. The blunt, purple head of his cock, no longer able to be pushed back by him, poking out the fold of his slit, barely held back by his paws. He only hopes his arousal seeping from between his legs won’t ruin the fabric beneath him. Krobus rides the brink of ecstasy; strung in purgatory between heaven and hell, so close to nectar yet unable to indulge in it; so close to release yet unable to give in to it, the pressure of his paws the most relief he can sneak in, pressing ever so gently - ever so tenderly against it so that he does not render himself inane.

But then the farmer leans closer, muscle pressing against his flesh, so firm - so _powerful_ against the soft pliancy of his own - the warmth of her body almost searing; her _sweat_ coming into contact with his shoulder, a bead running down his arm. 

And he is gone. He barely even has time to sob - to rut into the groove of his paws, to inhale her scent one last time, to press himself even deeper into the ridges of her body. His seed spurts brokenly between his thighs, oozing thickly down his calves and onto the carpet. His orgasm comes in a flash and leaves with no fanfare, leaving him with ruined paws and ruined fabric, still in shock as his then-rigid limbs go slack, an utter mess as the farmer turns around, eyes widening as she reaches for him - no doubt, he thinks, to finally kick him out. 

**Author's Note:**

> Doesn't anyone else think Krobus has some weirdly horny dialogue for a roommate?
> 
> For a friend <3 check out her art  
> https://millerotic.newgrounds.com/art/


End file.
